


Vir'adahlen

by Ichhatte (Wifeofbath)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-04-21 09:12:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4823363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wifeofbath/pseuds/Ichhatte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Together we are stronger then one, but how can one dalish woman in a world full of shem turn so many "ones" into one "together"?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In which an apostate ponders his dilema

**Author's Note:**

> So, my life is about to pick up speed, and when that happens I'm notorious for not writing at all. I need to do better at that. The upshot is I've decided to do what I always said I'd never do and write a walkthrough style fiction. Each chapter will be told in the voice of a character and be around 1000 words. I want to update twice a week. We'll see how this goes.

The girl had slept three days and two nights. Solas wiped sweat from her brow. Her fever seemed to be breaking. He had done all he could. If she was strong enough to survive the anchor she would wake soon. 

The sound of crackling electricity filled the air and the anchor pulsed. The elven girl cried out, whimpering in pain, even as she slept. 

They had brought her to him hours after an explosion had utterly destroyed the temple of sacred ashes. They had said that she walked right out of the fade. It was a statement he was inclined to believe, though he doubted the claim that andraste herself had walked out with her. The dalish girl had been so covered in blood and burns when he had seen her that he had not made out her vallaslin, only the telltale ears. He had not been the only one to notice, and the prejudice against her heritage he was sure, was no small part of the prejudice she must face if she was to avoid execution.

The first day he had spent ensuring she did not die of injuries, only then had he been abe to attempt to stabilize the mark. That process had, once again, brought her to the brink of death. 

She had surprised him. No mortal should have experienced what she had and lived. Yet here she was. Weak, but fighting. Her will had to be strong as steel for her to remain alive, it was impressive. If she did awake he looked forward to seeing what kind of woman she was.

Yes, she would live, he was almost positive. 

Last night, he had slept and followed her into the fade, hoping for some clue about her. He had found her in the clutches of her nightmares. Stone walls pressed in, chains bound her, no windows, no light, and in the shadows, just out of sight, something was coming.

He had tried to soothe her, focusing on forests and rivers. He had watched her, in dreams, settle beside a fire, wrapped in a fur blanket. His efforts seemed to have paid off. This morning she had shown steady improvement. He had even managed to spoon a little broth down her throat. The pulses from the breach were still paining her, but Solas suspected the pain of the mark would linger even when she awoke.

She would regain consciosness by the morrow. In either case he needed to leave this jail cell. Cassandra had insisted the elf remain imprisoned and chained in Haven's dungeon, despite her condition. 

Haven's population was hungry for blood. They needed someone to blame for the death and destruction in one of their most sacred places of people. They were only small ignorant people lashing out against forces they could not even begin to understand. The brunt of their anger had fallen on the dalish elf who seemed to have infiltrated the counsel secretly. The case against her had already been built. Even the seeker seemed to assume her guilt. If Solas couldn't find a way to prove her innocence she would be put to death.

The woman whimpered and her eyelashes fluttered. Solas pulled the hood of his cloak over his face. She would wake very soon. He needed a better bargaining position then sitting in a cell with her. The seeker would be more inclined to listen if she saw a demonstration, he decided. He would move ahead of her, plant the seeds of an idea, and wait. If all else failed he would be in a position to disappear if his plans failed.

He walked to the cell and rapped on the door, "Take me to the Seeker." 

Behind him the elf groaned again.

The guard let him out of the cell and led him up the hallway. He looked back once and saw her sitting up, head leaning against her knees. He felt a pinch of guilt about leaving her. She was his patient, he should ensure she did not move too much or too quickly. He should check the bindings on her wounds. Still, it would be better for both of them in the end if he could keep her head affixed to her neck. "See that she is brought water," he told the guard, "and something to eat. She will need her strength for what lies ahead."

The guard made a derisive noise. "Nothing ahead of her, but a gibbet."

"That would be a grave error," he said, "but we shall let the seeker judge."


	2. In which the prisoner wakes up

The air was dank and stale when Mirae Lavellan awoke. Her head throbbed. She tried to rub her eyes, and froze as she discovered ropes chaffing her wrists. SHe blinked rapidly, adjusting her eyes to the darkness. 

She turned her head to the left, then the right. Stone walls, and bars. She could see the silhoutte of a guard, too tall to be elven. Fear cut at her heart. She was in a  jail, with shem.

"Fenedhis," she muttered.

The last thing she remembered was...was...

The Keeper had sent her to observe the conclave. She had walked into a servants door, no one had given her a second glance even with the veil over her face. She had walked down a hallway and then...Running. Something chasing. Fear.

She breathed in through her nose, counting to five, then out again. When she had finished she took stock of her body. Her head hurt, and she desperately needed to piss.  Mirae braced herself for pain and sat up.

The room tilted wildly for a moment, before it came back to center. Mirae bit her lip and waited for the pain in her head to die down into a dull throb. She had been dressed in clean woolen clothes by someone. She wondered who with a growing sense of dread. How long had she been unconscious? She used her shoulder to push herself off of the wooden cot and onto the floor.

There was a sound like a twig breaking and something like the feeling of a knife stabbing her hand. She gasped and fell to her knees as the pain washed over her in waves of pure fire. Slowly, it receded back into a dull throb. When it was bearable again she stood and relieved herself in the bucket. 

She spotted a tray with some bread, a bowl of stew, and water on it and realized how desperately hungry she was. Mirae took the tray to the back of her cell in th corner opposite the bucket. SHe hated buildings, but it was comforting to have her back against the cool stone. She didn't like the idea of being snuck up on. The food was simple, but filling, though difficult to eat with her hands bound. She scooped up the last of the broth with the bread and drank down the water that only slightly slacked her thirst. 

When her physical needs had been taken care of Mirae sat down to contemplate the situation. SHe was grateful the guards had at least left her alone. In her experience, shem were only too quick to take advantage of vulnerable elves. 

But then, she had been asleep for...creaters knew how long. She cursed under her breath again. Anything could have been done to her. 

She had always felt comfortable traveling, but she had always traveled with her clan. She had left them close to Kirkwall, and now they were traveling even farther North. It felt incredibly far away. Mirae felt very small, suddenly.

She could see the back of four guards, standing in the archway nearby. At the very least she wouldn't be forgotten about. She thought about what it would be like to be left here to rot, starving until her bones lay in the straw and shuddered. 

No. She couldn't think that way. These shem would remember her, and they would let their guard down eventually. When they did, she would be ready. 

In the meantime there was nothing left to do, but wait.


	3. Chapter 3

"Seeker."

Cassandra turned from where she was studied the breach. "Solas." She glanced back at the breach one more time before devoting her full attention to the apostate. "

It had been two days. Two Maker cursed days and the elven apostate had yet to contribute anything like a solution. She had spoken to Leliana this morning, accusing him of working with the elven murderer in the cells. How else would he know anything of the mark? Perhaps he was attempting to kill the prisoner before she tipped the hand of whoever had plotted the attack, or...something else? Perhaps he was simply looking for an opportunity to take the prisoner and escape.

Leliana disagreed, and that seemed settled the matter for everyone but Cassandra. No matter how she raised her voice they would not listen to her. In any case, she intended to keep a close eye on the elf, if he could not soon produce something to show for all the time he had spent with he prisoner. 

Any news?" She kept her voice low and even, enough to make the question sound like a threat.

"Yes, in fact." he said,  "You will be pleased to hear your suspect shall awaken soon." His face was blank, but she could see a humorous light in his eyes. She suspected he was, in some way, mocking her for her earlier suspicion. "I had not expected her to make it through the night, but her fever broke early this morning." He continued.

Cassandra nodded, "I see." She fingered the hilt of her sword. As hungry as haven was for the killer's death, she was yet more ravenous. After all, had she not known the divine? She had been faithful to the most holy for so many years, did she not deserve to see the killer suffer? She hoped to wield the executioners sword herself. "I will alert the guard to prepare her for questioning. What of the mark?"

Solas turned and looked at the breach. Cassandra followed his gaze. Ocaisionally it seemed as if it spit fire, but they both knew these were demons. If they could not hold the valley, and they were not holding the valley, Haven would be lost. 

"The breach is growing."  he said after a moment, "more rapidly than I had anticipated."

"I know." 

"Have you discovered anything new?" he asked. 

Cassandra rolled her eyes. "No. Does this discussion have a point? I've work to do."

The elf nodded, "as you wish, seeker. I believe the mark onyour prisoner is related to the breaches. From my observations, each time the breach expands, so does the mark." He put his hands behind his back and squared his shoulders. "Arm me, send me to study a smaller rift. I theorize that if we view the fade as a door between our world, and the world of spirits, the mark is a key. I can study the rift and find a way to use it to seal the breach once and for all."

Cassandra sneered, "never." As if she would arm this elven apostate and send him off to do this. Maker knew he would run at the first opportunity. And even if he was being honest, a prospect she doubted why would she send a mage? "Sending a mage to deal with demons is too risky."

"They will not posses me, Seeker. I can keep myself safe."

"You are too prideful." 

Solas looked ready to retort when they were interupted.

"What if you sent him with me?" 

Cassandra turned sharply. "Absolutely not, Varric."

The dwarf grinned, "Why not? If something happens, Bianca can take care of me and worst case scenario," he shrugged, "you're rid of two inconvenient problems." He obviously doubted the worst case scenario would happen.

"This is madness," Cassandra said. She suspected she had already lost the battle though.

Solas shurgged, "it may be our only chance. You wish to close the breach? So do I. We've common cause. My world is as threateded as your world. Would you really prevent me from fighting to save it?"

Cassandra didn't answer.  Varric seemed to sense she was on the verge of giving in, "Look, best case scenario, we can keep the demons at one of the rifts occupied. Take some heat off of you, and maybe solve the breach problem at the same time. Everyone wins."

Solas nodded. "I ask only that you bring the girl to me as soon as she awakens. I hope to have a solution as soon as I can."

Cassandra sighed, "I promise nothing, but I will present the idea to the others. Though I suspect they will think me insane for suggesting such a thing."

The dwarf and the elf studied each other for a moment. Solas finally half smiled, sensing he had won a small victory, "I suppose that's all I can ask."


	4. In which Cullen Arrives

Cullen Rutherford was weary, footsore, and much later than he had hoped to be. He supposed he should be grateful since tardiness had saved his life, yet the death of countless friends at the conclave had soured even that. Leliana had sent him a raven to the mountain pass where this blasted cold had slowed his journey. He had seen the breach she had described in her letter off in the distance yesterday and he had been watching it grow as the distance to Haven shrunk. 

His horse snorted gratefully at the smell of the stable and picked up it's pace, eager for oats, as they approached the village gates. Cullen nodded at the man in the doorway of the forge. "Greetings."

"Ser Cullen?" the man asked.  "The Lady said your horse would need resting. Names Harritt. I'm working the stables too these days as well as the forge. Too much work and not many hands these days."

Cullen gave what he hoped was a friendly, but weary smile. "My thanks. I'd appreciate a new mount saddled and my bags transferred."

"Aye. I'll see what can be done."

Haven was nothing but a collection of shacks with a gate around it. The only building of any size was the chntry in the middle, and that looked positively ancient. He noted the lack of defenses, if there was any chance of defending such a place it would need to be fortified. 

An elven servant met him at the gate. She kneaded her hands nervously and made a timid little bow when she saw him. "Ser," she hesitated, "you're the templar Lady Leliana spoke of? Begging your pardon, I just don't want-"

Cullen brushed past her as politely as possible, "That would be me. I need to speak with her immediately."

He'd pay generously for the chance to take a hot bath and have a quiet meal by the fireside, but with conclave gone, and the rift in the sky above the temple that wasn't going to happen. He'd get a full report on the situation from Leliana. She said they had already established a forward camp and they were keeping the demons at bay, but the troops would need bolstering. He'd depart before sundown.

The elven woman interupted his thoughts, "she said to escort you Ser, begging your pardon. She wanted you escorted to her in the war room."

Cullen sighed, "of course."

The hum of villagers voices lowered as he passed, with most of them turning to watch he walked by trailed by the servant. He passed the  ramshackle buildings filled with wounded and winced. From the smell of the wounded, the bodies lined up side by side in the snow, and the despondent look of the villagers they were  losing this fight at an alarming rate. He needed a count of the forces and survey of the battlefield. He wondered if there was anything left of the temple. They needed to gain the upper hand, and quickly. 

Halfway through the sanctuary and he could already hear the muffled arguments from the inner chamber. He sighed. hopefully they could all work together long enough to manage the immediate threat. They could tear each other apart, once demons weren't standing by to do the job for them.

Without waiting for an anouncement he pushed open the door and walked inside. 

He already knew of the Lady Pentahgast, and he had spoken with Leliana on more than mone occaision. Leliana had spoken of the Montilyet family in several letters, he had no doubt the dark haired woman in the corner scowling at a piece of parchment was her.

Cassandra was leaning across the table pointing at Leliana. "You would have us do nothing with her?"

"I would not have us condemn an innocent woman." Leliana folded her arms, "Even if she is guilty, she may be working for someone. Killing her leaves us with no leads."

Montilyet nodded, "I must agree with-"

"Of course you must. You always do."

Cullen cleared his throat. All three woman startled and looked up. Lady Montilyet was the first to regain composure. "Ser Cullen, it is good to see your journey led you safely here."

Leliana offered him a small smile. "Good to see you." The servant was standing in the doorway just behind him. Leliana gestured, "bring the Knight-Captain some food and wine."

"Water please," Cullen interjected. The servant scampered away.

Cassandra squinted at him and then nodded in greeting. The right hand of the divine was notoriously stern.

"So", he said, "what were you discussing."

"We have the infiltrator responsible for the Divine's murder," Cassandra said.

"You do?"

Josephine shook her head, "We don't know that."

Cassandra snorted, "She walked out of the fade."

Leliana shook her head, "But there was someone with her." She shook her head, "none of this makes any sense, if we could question her, then maybe we'd know the truth." 

Cullen put a hand to his forehead staving off a headache. "Can it wait until we've dealt with the current situation? We have demons pouring out of the sky. If she's in the dungeon she's not going anywhere."

"And we still have no idea how to close the rift," Lady Montilyet said. "Solas insists it is growing, and I must agree with him."

Cassandra made a noise of disgust. "We don't know that she knows how either. We should put her to trial as soon as we can."

"But first," Said Cullen, "we close the rift and if this woman knows anything she has to be alive long enough to tell us." He scowled. "We can debate guilt and innocence later. Have you been outside? We'll be dead if we don't find a better way to fight."

"You have a point," Casandra said slowly, "the mage who cares for her seems to think she may be useful. He wants to study her and the rift together."

Leliana folded her arms, "Then Cassandra and I will question her and take her to the forward camp. Cullen, you can take a small group ahead of us."

"Are we really discussing sending an apostate mage to the front lines?" Casandra asked.

"Do we have a choice," Leliana said, "If he knows anything, we have to use him. You said Varric volunteered to go with him?"

Cassandra made a noise of disgust, but held her peace.

There was a moment of silence as they looked at each other. No objections. Cullen nodded, "Good." he turned to go. "But I'd appreciate it, if you dropped the title. I'm not a Templar anymore."


	5. In which Mirae prays

Five weeks before the conclave, clan Sabrae, clan Lavellan, and clan Ithalenin met. Only ten times a century did all clans meet in one clash of color and, music, and dancing. On other occaisions It would be simply two or three of them meeting for a night or two of all the intracacies dalish society entailed. 

On such occaisions there would be feasting, and dancing, and then the re-telling of old stories, and then the arguing over stories. Drink would be shared. Love would begin tonight between some, and a thousand tiny feuds that would be embellished and re-told again.

Not tonight. Tonight the clans remained at their own fires, all but the keepers and firsts and a handful of hahrens who sat around the fire in a tight circle.  Scouts had been sent to the other two clans that frequented the area and had come back with long speeches and longer letters. Tonight the dalish of the free marches would decide their course. Such occaisions demanded gravity. 

Mirae watched from where she sat at her own fire, though she could hear little of what was said. When the keeper came back from the center fire hers had dwindled down to a few small flames she kept alive with kindling. The Keeper's first trailed after her. Aithlain was young, and overly serious. In the dark preceeding morning she looked ready to collapse with exhaustion. Her vallaslin, still dark and new, stood out starkly from her pale face. 

"How fare our sisters, Keeper?" Mirae said with a smile. "Is Sabrae still growing crops or have they resumed their wanderings?" It was known widely that clan Sabrae had remained near Kirkwall for nearly a decade. 

Keeper Deshanna smiled, "Our sisters have resumed their journey on the lonely path, it seems. As we shall tomorrow." She sat beside Mirae. "Aithlain, tomorrow will be busy. Rest." The girl scampered off towards her aravel, but Mirae saw her make a sharp turn at the last second towards the forest. 

"She's going to meet Eiros," Mirae smirked. They had been making moon eyes at each other for months. 

Deshanna shook her head, "The energy of the young." She looked long at the hunter, "she is not the only one who does not sleep, however."

Mirae nodded, and fed another stick to her fire. "I wanted to know what would happen."

The Keeper sighed, "Mirae, only the creators know what will happen. But give guidance, where does our course lay."

Mirae bit her lip and studied the embers, "clan Sabrae is friendly with humans. Clan Ithalenin, is... more secluded. There are those in their clan who have never laid eyes on men. We are neither so secluded, nor so social. Sabrae will advise waiting and watching the humans. They will adjust their path to accomodate, as a stream flows around a stone. Clan Ithalenin will want to hide. They may even wish to migrate further east or North."

"And us?"

"We would wish the same. So we shall leave on the morrow?"

"Yes."

"That won't be enough," Mirae said, "If the mages have rebelled and the templars war against them, there will be no places for dalish to hide. There will be war on all the world." She shook her head. 

Keeper Deshanna nodded, "This is so." 

Mirae sneered, "Shem war within themselves. They are children jealous of each other's toys."

"And how would you solve the problem, da'len?" Keeper Deshanna asked. Mirae looked up at her to see if she was being made fun of, but the hahren's face was somber.

Mirae thought about it before shaking her head, "I do not know, Keeper. It was wrong to start with, the way they treat their mages. It cannot be repaired. They must start anew."

"It is so." They were silent for a moment. Mirae touched her face and stroked the long curved scar on her jawline unconsciously. Deshanna watched, "Do you still hold this bitterness?"

Mirae's shoulders tensed, "They killed him, keeper. It is not a thing one forgets."

Deshanna looked into the fire. They were silent for several long minutes. "We have decided to find out more about this war. They are meeting for peace talks soon. I would send one of our own."

"You would send one of us?" Mirae raised an eyebrow. It wasn't unusual for a member of a clan to be used as a scout between clans, but for one of them to be sent into human territory was beyond unusually. It was nearly unthinkable.

"I would." Deshanna sighed, "though it breaks my heart to do this thing." She paused and stood her hands behind her back, "Lethallan," the keeper faltered, "you are the daughter of my heart. In the six summers since you've recieved your vallaslin you have grown into a warrior. Such tasks as I must burden you with now should fall to Aithlain, but she is young and untested."

Mirae looked at the older woman, mouth falling open in shock. She scrambled to her feet. "You would send me away from the clan? Is this about Loran?"

"Da'len, no." Deshanna cupped the younger woman's face in her hands. "What happened was not your fault. I hold no blame for you. As the child of my sister, gone to the creators, I would hold you with me forever." Her face grew stern and she released Mirae, "but as a keeper I tell you that you that your clan has need of you, and ask you fulfill your oath to serve Clan Lavallan above yourself."

There was a long, pregnant pause. Then Mirae dropped to her knee, one hand clasped over her heart. "I will depart at sunrise. I will not fail you keeper."

Deshanna pretended she did not hear the crack in Mirae's voice, pretended she did not know that as she left the fire, the young warrior would let her tears fall.

Three weeks later, in the dim light of a cell, that same warrior wrapped her arms around herself and wondered if she would ever return to the clan she loved again, or if she had reached the end of her path. She began to speak the words of those gone before her, words she had known since she was a child, in a language older than the eldest shemlen.

"Mother Mythal, protect me and guide me.  
Father Elgar'nan, judge me clean  
Sister Andruil, lend your arrows  
Sylaise guide me home to hearth..."


	6. Introductions

It was not long before they came for her.

One hour, maybe two. As soon as she heard footsteps Mirae stilled herself. It was time to face her captors. She fixed the image of a stone into her mind. Just as when she hunted, cold as stone, still as frozen lakes. Whatever they wanted from her she would not give it willingly.

Four templars in full armor walked through the door. As they approached the cell door three of them drew their blades. The naked steel glinted in the torchlight. Mirae stood pressed up against the back wall of the cell until a stone in the wall dug into her back. her hands clenched and unclenched. If only they hadn't bound her. She realized she was holding her breath and forced herself to relax.

Fear will be the death of you Lethallan, Loren had once told her, It slows you down, clouds your thoughts, kills you as sure as any blade or arrow.

One by one Mirae unclenched her muscles.

For a long moment the men paused at the door of her cell. They were frightened, or at least hesitant, Mirae realized, of her. What could make four soldiers frightened of a bound and trapped elven woman?

Finally the oldest one choked out a strained laugh and unlocked the cell door. He approached her slowly, the three men with blades moved into the cell behind him. Did they really think she was that dangerous. Something was very strange here.

She tensed again as the templar approached, glaring. If they were afraid she could wield their fear against them. He held up both hands. "Easy, girl."

Mirae let him put a gloved hand under her elbow, though she chaffed under his touch. He propelled her forward, out of the cell. She was acutely aware of the men with swords surrounding her, one behind and, two before. They didn't take her far. Just out of her cell the templar put a hand on her shoulder, pressing lightly. "On your knees."

Mirae glared at him. The tip of a sword brushed her back, just enough to remind her it was there.

She knelt.

The templar stepped back and drew his sword.

What could make four templars scared of her as children? Templars weren't known for cowardice. Besides, this was Fereldan. The outskirts, yes, but still Fereldan. Their hero, who had fought and slain, had been an elf from one of their alienages. Since then, Dalish were more likely to trade in some of the smaller towns and villages. Who did these men think she was?

There was another strange pulse in her hand, as if all the muscles were tensing. Then pain, like a hot knife. Wider than the last time. From the base of her themb to just outside her palm. This time she was being watched. Mirae bit back a cry of pain and turned it into one sharp breath. She sounded like a hurt toddler.

She remembered recieving her vallaslin. The hahren's knife had cut into her face, embedding the ink into her skin. She had not cried out then. This pain was not so much greater, she should bear it with greater courage.

Somewhere in the distance a door openend and she could hear two sets of footsteps. Two women walked through the door. One wore heavy armor and carried a sword at her side. She had short black hair and a broad jaw. Her steps were heavy and her face contorted into a scowl. Her companion was smaller in build annd walked more softly.

The second woman stopped in front of her. Mirae tried to peer beneath the hood, but the dim lighting and cloth obscured her face. The second woman continued walking. She made a breif motion and the templars sheathed their weapons. Her gait was heavy, but the woman moved with catlike grace. Despite herself, Mirae felt like a mouse.

The woman disappeared from her line of sight. There was a clink of chain mail, hot breath on the side of her face.

"Tell me why I shouldn't kill you."


End file.
